


Dress - A Milippa One-shot

by dolcewrites



Category: star trek discovery
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Idk how to tag a smut fic smh I'll come back to this, Michael Deserves A Hug, Or Shenzhou-era, Oral Sex, Parties!, Rated E for Enjoyable Smut, Shenzhou AU where no one dies, drinking mention, whatever you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolcewrites/pseuds/dolcewrites
Summary: As far as she was concerned, Michael was not a big fan of parties. That quickly changed when she saw Philippa in a new cocktail dress.





	Dress - A Milippa One-shot

**Author's Note:**

> So I last wrote smut a year ago, let's see if my style has improved since then. 
> 
> Fun fact: this fic marks the premiere of the f-bomb in any of my published fics!
> 
> Wrote this because Michael has been going through too much shit in the series. Wouldn't you as well?

As far as she was concerned, Michael could never be able to understand why the Betazed had such a preference for frivolous parties whenever the chance arose. Well, she understood the logistics of their psychology and culture. She was a xenoanthropologist, after all. But she would never be able to relate to their preferences. That was the mildest way of putting things.

 

Still, she observed diplomatic relations with seriousness, and she took it upon herself to be a gracious ambassador on the Federation’s behalf. In celebration of a successful dialogue between their hosts on the Shenzhou and the head ambassadors of Betazoid, a cocktail party was just as well to be expected. Shenzhou had a local bar and recreation room, nicknamed the Heavenly Host, which was perfect for that event. (After all, it went without saying that the crew of the Walker-class ship was one of the most die-hard partygoers the Fleet had ever seen. How they managed to escape intervention is a mystery to this day.) 

 

At 2000 hours, it was already packed with both local personnel as well as the twenty or so diplomats which the Betazed had sent over. Most of the crew took the liberty to come in their favourite cocktail wear, and Michael had no choice but to blend in. (She would have much preferred the official ambassadorial uniform, but then again, both the crew and the Betazed liked to party hard). Dressed in a simple red dress that was body-conscious but modest, Michael had no intentions to stand out much, but she did have to look presentable. She kept it simple and sleek. 

 

Uncannily, neither the head ambassador, Svanni Touloun, or Captain Philippa Georgiou had made their way to the Heavenly Host yet. Michael guessed that they had to finish up some final negotiations before making their way to the celebration. Either that, or Ambassador Touloun took a long time getting ready for a party. Both were equally probable. So, in their absence, Michael had to greet her guests as First Officer. 

 

The ideal state to approach any of the diplomats for tonight, though, would be semi-intoxication, and she was not prepared to do that. So instead, she floated around the chocolate fountain, which attracted their guests like bees to a lush flower. Soon enough, she found herself engaged in a mind-numbing lecture about the history and different types of chocolate from Earth. Even with Keyla Detmer and Joann Owoseskun joining her at some point, Michael found herself glancing at the exit every two seconds in hopes that something would give her an excuse to leave.

 

An accident on the bridge, perhaps? Something that could be staged? Anything for Michael to change out of that insufferable red dress and into a good old uniform. Dressing up and socialising was far from her forte, even though Philippa did train her well enough to have her at least put up a presentable front.

 

_ It was all part of the job. Just a part of the job.  _

 

Then it caught her eye. Michael wasn’t the first to voice it, though, for she had frozen up, all over, in shock. 

“The ambassador and the captain are arriving!” One of the ensigns called out, announcing that to everyone who was too busy partying to remember that it was a diplomatic celebration. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Philippa led the ambassador into the Heavenly Host.

 

Philippa had outdone herself. Her hair was evidently tampered with, falling down her shoulders in fluid, luscious waves. Her dress was a rich purple that boasted a plunging neckline and fanned out at her knees, as well as leaving a large portion of her back bare. Complementing the skirt was a pair of needle-thin stilettos of the matching colour, and tall enough that she was able to reach the 6’1” ambassador’s eye level with ease. 

 

Michael’s jaw popped open, and she quickly turned away before Philippa could see her, her cheeks turning almost as red as her dress. Hoping to ignore the growing wetness between her legs, she turned back to the ambassadors, offering some quick facts on the history of macarons, which were, to their luck, being served right over there, if they would like to take a look?

 

“...of course, there are many regulations we observe aboard a starship to safeguard the smooth operation we have around here. But once in a while, we do enjoy letting our hair down in a little indulgent celebration…” Philippa’s smooth voice drifted past Michael’s ear as she and the ambassador made their rounds around the space at an achingly slow pace. Shakingly, Michael reached for a chocolate-dipped strawberry in a scramble to recollect her racing thoughts. So Philippa had decided to wear something quite flattering tonight. It shouldn’t be causing  _ that _ much distress to her… right? 

 

Thankfully, Philippa didn’t seem to even notice Michael, the way her gaze was so focused on the ambassador, and how her voice maintained the cool control of a collected diplomat as they talked. For a while, Michael thought she was in the clear. 

 

That was, until Philippa’s hand reached behind her and squeezed her ass firmly as she walked past. 

 

Michael felt her breath shoot sharply up her nose, and she quickly looked around, checking to see that no one had noticed. And Philippa, that  _ damned  _ woman, was now listening intently to what the ambassador had to say, her arms folded neatly behind her back, as if  _ nothing  _ had happened. 

 

A deep heat flared up in Michael’s stomach and between her legs, and, to her horror, began pooling in her panties. She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe as evenly as possible. She could be discreet. She basically grew up training herself to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It would be fine.

 

But then, it was as though Michael had a spotlight trained on her. A presence she just couldn’t shake. Like someone knew all of her thoughts, her frantic, erotic, thoughts, and were reading them like a juicy column in a tabloid. Then another. And another soon joined it.

 

Her ears roared, making her deaf to the outside world. She was beginning to hyperventilate, and hot, hot blood pulsed up the sides of her cheeks and her ears. She was being watched.  _ Enjoyed _ . Michael felt her fight-or-flight instinct rising up against her. Next thing she knew, she had strode up to an island table where the ambassador and Philippa were still engaged in a light conversation over some wine.

 

“Excuse me, ambassador, may I borrow the captain for a moment, please?” Michael’s voice sounded shaky and breathless, and she cleared her throat, hoping to mask it as a momentary wavering in her voice. “There’s been an… issue,” she tried again slowly, shooting Philippa a death glare. 

 

Ambassador Touloun regarded her with curious eyes for almost a second too long. Then, her gaze turned knowing, and Michael felt her skin prickle once more. “Of course. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Philippa?”

 

“Not at all, Svanni, thank you.” Philippa excused herself graciously. As soon as she had taken half a step towards Michael, she grabbed the captain by the wrist and practically dragged her across the room. 

 

“Slow down, Michael, I’m in heels,” Philippa protested as she stumbled along, but Michael paid no heed. She didn’t slow down, nor did she stop at all, until the two of them resurfaced in an unpopulated corridor outside of the party room. 

 

“What’s wrong, Michael?” Philippa’s grin was wide and triumphant as she watched her, who had pressed herself against the cool walls of the hallways to catch her breath. 

 

“Are Betazed telepathic through walls?” Michael asked, still too winded to complete her sentence in one breath. 

 

Philippa raised her eyebrows, which made her look all the more sexy. Michael had to bite back an undignified noise from the back of her throat. “Not that I know of,” she said, her smirk curling wickedly on her lips. “Why do you ask, Michael?” She pressed a hand against the wall, leaning down to whisper, slowly, in her ear. “Did you want to fuck or something?” 

 

Michael couldn’t help but let out a groan as soon as her lips brushed her ear. Philippa had won. 

 

“Yes,” Michael gasped, her eyes trained on Philippa’s body that hovered ever so tantalisingly above her. “Very much so.” 

 

Philippa hummed, making Michael shiver as goosebumps stippled her flesh. She pressed her face against her nape, inhaling her scent. “Mmm. Roses. You always smell as sweet as you look, Michael.”

 

Before Michael could even reply, she eased a finger inside of her, making her moan quietly, grabbing a fistful of Philippa’s hair. “So wet already, Michael? For me?” She rubs her finger up Michael’s folds, murmuring in pleasure as she thrust rapidly against her, abandoning all composure. She had barely slipped a second finger in before Michael gave a muffled cry and climaxed all over her. 

 

Philippa worked fast, her fingers sliding up and down her clit mercilessly, letting orgasm after orgasm slam into Michael, her inner muscles clenching tightly and wetly against the intruding fingers. When Michael finally flung herself against the wall, her face slick with sweat, her lips flush and parted as she panted, Philippa relented and pulled out, her fingers slick with her pearlescent juices. Making sure that Michael was watching closely, she suckled them like a lollipop. 

 

“Delicious,” she purred, licking her lips. 

 

That voice alone was enough to make Michael come another time. Philippa chuckled in response. 

 

*** 

When the two of them returned to the reception, the ambassador greeted them with a glowing smile. “Ah, you’re back. I trust you’ve resolved your… pressing issue? It seemed to bother Commander Burnham quite a bit.” The twinkle in her eye only made Michael blush harder, although she hoped it wouldn’t be visible in the dark. Philippa nodded graciously without missing a beat, though her hand slid up to gently rest on Michael’s hip. “Of course, Svanni. It was the most kind of you to excuse us.” 

 

“Oh --” 

 

“Ambassador, would you care for a strawberry? They are simply heaven-sent goodness!” A diplomat, flanked by a frantic Joann and Keyla, approached them, a stumble in his step. 

 

“I’m sorry, captain, ambassador, we tried to keep him off the whiskey --” Keyla began quickly. 

 

“No matter, no matter!” Svanni waved her hands gleefully. “This is the Betazed way of celebrating! Do show me the finest spirits in the house, Philippa!” 

 

With a final squeeze on her hip bone, Philippa was off yet again, leaving Michael to appreciate the entirety of her exposed back. She was painfully reminded, once again, of simply how soaked her underwear was at this point. 

 

*** 

It was 0200 hours, meaning that most of the diplomats and crew members had crawled drunkenly into their own rooms for the night. That was when Michael found herself charging into Philippa’s room, dangling her stilettos from a hand as she did. She found the captain perched on her bed almost expectantly, her dress meticulously fanned out around her. As if she had been waiting for Michael, all along. The next thing both women heard was the sound of shoes hitting the floor. 

 

Whatever Michael had planned to say to her, it evaporated from her mind. Her pupils widened as she approached Philippa, who stood up as she came, taking in the ethereal sight before her. Her heels had been long abandoned and tucked neatly with the rest of her closet, but the rest of her still looked as ravishing as it did when she first arrived to the party. 

 

“You look even more gorgeous in private,” Michael breathed, holding her waist with both hands, feeling the tell-tale heat pool between her legs as she did. Philippa tilted her head adoringly. She gave Michael a cheeky, sultry look. 

 

“Why else did you think I replicated this dress for tonight, Michael?” she asked softly. Michael’s eyes widened. Now it all made sense. How she was fashionably late to the party to ensure Michael had a glimpse of her strutting in. How she had hovered herself around Michael, just close enough to drive her insane with a simple look. It seemed that she was trying to please her Number One even more than she was trying to please her guests. 

 

“All this… for me?” 

 

“Well.” Philippa sighed. “We haven’t been talking much lately, apart from work. It’s just… we’ve both been so busy with everything. I wanted us to let our hair down a little tonight. I’ve missed you.” 

 

Michael found herself swallowing the bubbling tension building up inside of her. “And I've missed you too,” she whispered back, bending down to kiss her. Michael’s hand supported the back of Philippa’s head as their tongues began to tangle, tasting and exploring each other anew all over again. 

 

“This is a beautiful dress,” Michael mused when they broke apart, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “May I… may I take it off of you?” 

 

For the first time, she heard Philippa’s breath hitch in her chest. “Yes,” she breathed, turning around for Michael. 

 

Eagerly but slowly, she dragged the zipper downwards, making sure to drag it out for longer than necessary. When Philippa fumbled to undo her neck strap herself, Michael easily slapped her hand away. “Patience,” she growled, smirking when she felt Philippa shiver at her voice. She undid the ribbon slowly as well, letting the fabric run over her neck before coming undone into one piece. Now without an anchor, the dress slipped easily from Philippa’s body until it pooled at her feet, leaving her only in her undergarments. 

 

Michael kissed Philippa again, nudging her backwards until she lay on the bed with her legs dangling off the edge. Her bra had been unclasped and flung away in the process, leaving only her panties. 

 

“Michael…” Philippa moaned softly, desperation evident in her voice. Michael only felt her smirk get wider. “Oh no,” she said. “You’re going to have it nice and slow. Just a little payback for what you’ve done to me tonight.” 

 

Philippa’s mouth shut, her eyes widening with further arousal. Gently, Michael thumbed her breast, feeling her nipple stiffen with every touch. Dipping her head, she very lightly suckled, feeling Philippa’s breath sharpen against her. She continued for a while, switching between squeezing, massaging, and nursing her breasts with her lips and teeth, until Philippa gave a needy moan, tugging at Michael’s wrist. 

 

“Alright. You win.” Slowly, Michael let her fingers slide up Philippa’s clit, finding her hot and slick already. “You ready?” she murmured, and Philippa nodded with a quick gasp. Her fingers moved slowly, then as she felt her muscles tightening and clenching around her she rubbed faster, matching the rhythm of Philippa’s thrusts, the tension rising until she gave a cry and arched her back beautifully as an orgasm washed through her. 

 

Without missing a beat, Michael lowered herself onto Philippa, nudging her legs a little further apart with an elbow. Her tongue had barely made it past her entrance before she made Philippa climax again and again in succession.

 

When Michael finally rose, her lips glossy and wet, Philippa began tugging at her dress. “My turn,” she said quickly, and Michael obliged without a second thought.

 

When both women were naked and thoroughly spent, Michael found herself cuddling Philippa, who fit perfectly in her chest. It was as though they were puzzle pieces cut out for each other. 

 

“We should do this more often,” Philippa mumbled blissfully. “You, me…” 

 

“Sexy dresses…”

 

“We didn’t even get drunk.” 

 

“Hey, Philippa, do you think the Betazed could really pick up emotions through walls? Because I believe you’re hosting the ambassador in the quarters adjacent to ours, and --” 

 

Philippa gave Michael a playful push, sending her clinging on the edge of the bed. “Go to  _ sleep, _ Michael.”

 

Instead, Michael grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close again. Philippa pretended to be asleep throughout, but Michael could have sworn that she felt her snuggle just a little closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Do leave a kudos and critique if you're up for it, they're much appreciated and they help me improve.


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